


Take Me In Church

by jscribbles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: B-L-A-S-P-H-E-M-Y, Blasphemy, Canon Universe, Cas seduces Dean, Church Sex, Dean Cas and Sam take a vacation to Rome, Dean plans a date that goes wrong, FOR THOSE IN THE BACK, I repeat, M/M, Spanking, Tie pulling, a lot of blasphemy, blasphemous references to religion icons and idolatry, but did i mention hot church sex, for fucks sake heed the warnings, some blasphemous ejaculating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 08:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17280917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jscribbles/pseuds/jscribbles
Summary: Castiel is indifferent to where he is fucked and spanked, and doesn't quite care who hears him beg for it.A lovely, definitely completely innocent, virginal, totally-not-getting-a-one-way-ticket-to-hell fic about Cas' immediate need to be fucked by Dean in the middle of an empty Roman basilica, post-hunt.





	Take Me In Church

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MalMuses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses/gifts), [son_of_a_bitch_spn_family](https://archiveofourown.org/users/son_of_a_bitch_spn_family/gifts).



> I have super perverted friends who I love dearly, because our 1am conversations about Destiel turn into chaos and madness, and usually end up with one of us writing porn to accompany our flailing and mad cackling.
> 
> Enjoy, ladies. Also, shame on you, you fuckin' pervs.
> 
> To anyone else, if you're sensitive, or religious, or are easily alarmed by two men doing nasty shit in a church, RUN. 
> 
> ... KEEP RUNNING! FASTER! GO! SAVE YOURSELVES!

Dean and Cas burst out from the basement of the Roman basilica, pushing open the heavy stained glass door. Castiel stepped out calmly, his dress shoes clicking on the stone floor. As Dean charged ahead of him, the angel paused, wiping the blood off his shoes onto the red rug in front of him. 

“So messy,” he murmured, with disapproval under his breath. He briefly missed the days when all it took to kill a demon was a casual laying of hands. Now, with his grace depowered significantly, it meant that they needed to bleed a bit first.

“Go to Rome, they said!” Dean snapped, spinning around to face Castiel, his arms thrown into the air. “Take a break, they said! It’ll be fun, they said!”

“Who is ‘they’?” Castiel asked in his raspy voice, tilting his head a bit, squinting at Dean.

Dean ignored him, his eyes wide. “ _‘You and Cas go check out that basilica,’_ Sam said. _‘It’s probably nothing, but just in case,’_ he said. _‘Oooooh, it’s so beautiful,_ ’ he says, _‘look at the fucking google images,’_ he says!” 

Dean dipped his hands into the top of a beautiful, tall stone basin, rinsing the blood off his hands with holy water. “ _‘Ooooh, look at the gothic architecture, Dean. Take some pictures while you’re there’_ —Ah, fuck Sam! He shoulda been the one to come to this place. Maybe he coulda been the one dealing with the surprise voodoo-demon-cult-ritual in the basement, while we had a coffee on some pretentious veranda instead.”

“It only took us an hour, Dean,” Castiel said with a shrug, watching Dean flick pink water all over the stained glass windows to their right. 

“Yeah, but I had plans tonight,” Dean grumbled, wiping his hands on his pants. “I wasn’t counting on encountering an impromptu case during our vacation.”

Castiel scowled, jerking his head back a bit, his brows knitted together. “Plans? What plans?”

Dean’s eyes flickered up to Castiel’s face and he sighed, though it sounded more like a growl. He stood up and threw his hands out again, looking pissed off.

“I had plans,” Dean fired back, “to take you out, okay? We’d wear something kinda nice—I mean, not that suit and trenchcoat, buddy, you gotta change that sometimes—”

Castiel rolled his eyes, while Dean shrugged unapologetically. 

“—and, and, I had booked a hotel! Like a _real_ hotel, not some shitty hostel like we’re staying at now with Sam. It would be just you and me, and one of those fancy showers that feels like it’s raining, and a bed with stupid rose petals on it, and maybe a hot tub—”

Castiel’s unimpressed face melted instantly, and a tiny, flattered smile began to creep onto his lips. “That’s really nice, De—”

“—And then we’d fuck like animals. Like, fuckin’ wild and dirty. Like, we’d be so gross, we’d have to leave a big tip and check out early so we didn’t make eye contact with the maids.”

“Dean—”

“But now, we’re like forty minutes past my check-in time, and we still gotta bring the Impala back to Sam, because he wanted to drive out to some beach that I have no freakin’ interest in going to. Sand gets in really weird places and—” Dean waved a hand, licking his upper lip with the tip of his tongue, dismissing himself. “Anyway, we got other hunter-related stuff to do now, and Sam’s gonna want a de-brief, and just...I guess the fucking like wild animals thing can wait.”

Dean shook his head, obviously disappointed, and walked away. As he walked through the pews, Castiel following his path just a few pews up, and Dean rambled on, “...and I told you about the surprise plans, so now you’re just gonna know what they are when I try to do it again. And I mean, I guess that’s okay, but I was really looking forward to doing, y’know, uh, something for you—”

When Castiel’s trenchcoat slid off his shoulders, the belt made a clicking sound as it hit the oak bench on the way down. Dean looked over, watching Castiel slowly, very slowly walk through the pews, his gaze sidelong on Dean, his eyes dark and mischievous. 

“Dean,” Castiel murmured, sliding his blazer off of his shoulders, pleased with the way Dean was slowing his pace, walking in tandem down his respective pew. “I don't need a rain shower and a hot tub to desire you.”

Dean visibly swallowed, and he licked his lips, the skin around his eyes softening as his green eyes went helpless, watching the dark blazer slide off Castiel’s arms and disappear between the pews. 

_‘Watching you take off your trenchcoat and jacket is like porn,’_ Dean had admitted to him once, minutes before he was deep inside of Castiel and his lips were latched around a nipple, swatting away a blue tie that swung near his face.

Castiel stopped in the middle of the row. Dean stopped too, turning towards Castiel, undressing him with his eyes. 

The angel reached down and unclipped his cufflinks with one concise snap of his fingers. Then without breaking eye contact with Dean, he began rolling up his sleeves, exposing forearm. 

“I am utterly indifferent to where we have sex,” he said in a raspy murmur.

Dean seemed to have trouble speaking. He kept licking his lips and watching Castiel roll up his sleeves. But then he blinked and snapped out of it, waving a hand in the air. “Dude, you are not seriously suggesting we fuck in a church?”

Castiel broke his seduction for a moment to roll his eyes and look over his shoulder at the towering statue of Jesus Christ, hanging on a cross. He looked back at Dean, but pointed at Jesus. 

“He doesn’t care, Dean.” Castiel scowled. “That is a statue. The actual Jesus is somewhere either in Heaven or in the eastern hemisphere—” he paused to think, narrowing his eyes at the ceiling in thought, before shrugging and returning his gaze to Dean”—I mean, most likely that’s where he is. He has a preference.”

Dean gestured around and barked, “This is the house of God and stuff! Shouldn’t you care about this with your—” he made a circular motion above his head and flapped his arms like wings, “—angel stuff?”

Castiel growled and tilted his head back, internally trying to gather patience—he tried not to actively _pray_ for patience though, because it would be embarrassing to broadcast to angel radio why exactly he needed patience to forgive the Righteous Man for not fucking him in a church on command. 

He tipped his chin back down and gripped the back of a pew in front of him. “Dean, my angel stuff is hard as rock right at this very moment. Ever since you referenced maids that we’re not supposed to make eye contact with, all I’ve been imagining is you bending me over one of these godforsaken benches and making me feel blasphemous.”

Dean raised one finger in the air and opened his mouth like he was about to make a point, but then he curled the finger quickly into his fist and nodded. 

“Yeah, well, can’t be letting you down on date night, right?” Dean said matter of factly, walking quickly out of his row and yanking his jacket off his shoulders. He briefly fought with his jacket when he got an arm stuck in it, but he won eventually and flung it across the church, barely missing the vigil of candles and a painted picture of the virgin Mary.

“Do you have lubricant?” Castiel asked, sounding a bit breathless, his hands rushing to undo his belt and jerk down the zipper to his trousers. His hard, aching cock was straining again white underwear, fighting to spring out. 

“Lube?” Dean asked in surprise, throwing his balled-up button up shirt over his shoulders and beginning to undo his jeans. “I mean, yeah, duh, I have a bottle in my pocket, ‘cause I was kinda banking on us fucking in the hotel later, but, dude, a little foreplay, no?”

Castiel lifted himself up, one foot on the bench, his hands on the top of the pew behind him. He sat on the top of it and pulled out his cock, huffing, “Fine, if we must.”

Dean’s eyes jumped from Castiel’s face to his cock, heavy in his hand, pumping lazily. 

“You really just whipped out your dick in a church,” Dean breathed, hands grasping around in shock as he tried to clumsily remove his belt from its loops. “You… You just took it out. In...a church.” 

“Tell me more about this erotic hotel room experience you had planned for us,” Castiel whispered, his hand twisting around the head of his cock, spreading pre-come around the tip with his thumb. The slick sounds were loud in the silent church, his groans even louder as they rumbled in his throat. 

Dean, apparently, had planned to have them come back to the hotel and drink. He’d bought a case of vodka for Cas, wanting to get him equally as buzzed as Dean’d planned on getting. They’d kiss—sloppy, inelegant—all the way to the shower. Once in the shower, they’d ‘lather up’, and in Dean’s words, ‘get clean before they got dirty’.

Castiel wasn’t sure if the eyebrow wiggle was still part of the fantasy, but his cock was still hard, so he went with it, moaning and using his other hand to tug at his balls in the way Dean usually did that drove him crazy.

Once in the shower, after the cleaning and the eyebrow wiggle, Dean said he was going to turn Castiel around, push him up against the tile, his cock in his hand. He was going to kiss down his back and drag his nails over his skin. Dean would find a home somewhere on the tile, his knees breaking streams of bubbles and soap as they curled over the tile, towards the drain. His tongue would bury itself in Cas’ ass, spreading him open, fucking him mercilessly with that eager, hot tongue—

“Do it,” Castiel choked out, his face inches from Dean, who’d crowded his personal space while telling his story, who also had his own cock in his hand, pumping at it, curling his palm around the head, tugging and squeezing like he liked it. Dean had his other hand in Castiel’s hair, pulling at it roughly, his green eyes dark and lustful as he explained the fantasy, his hungry, predatory gaze never leaving Castiel’s lips.

Dean leaned forward and captured Castiel’s lips in a bruising kiss, their breathing hard and fast against each other’s mouths, their tongues brushing and teeth nipping. Then, Dean abruptly jerked Castiel's head away by his hair and turned him around. 

With one set of fingers gripping his hips and one hand on his shoulder, Dean pushed Castiel forward, bending him over the pew. He jerked Castiel’s pants off his hips, dragging them down his legs, dragging his tongue over hard thigh as he raised himself back up, and slid back onto the pew, seating himself comfortably.

That was how Castiel, angel of the Lord, ended up getting tongue fucked in a church, grasping at the pew seat in front of him desperately, the muscles in his back sliding under sweat-slick skin as his body jerked at each pleasurable wave that coursed through him, and his back arched as he whimpered, brought so close to orgasm before the tongue gave one last slick drag and retreated. 

Words unbecoming of an angel fell from Castiel’s lips when Dean left him shaking there, blue tie dangling in front of his eyes, between his arms.

It would begin to sway back and forth soon after, as Dean told him how he planned on ordering him onto all fours on the rose-petal covered bed. Dean would squirt lube onto his weeping, aching cock, and he would slide it into the begging, cock-hungry angel’s ass. 

He would do that both in the fantasy and in the middle of a basilica in Rome. 

Cas spread his legs and watched his tie swing back and forth in front of him as Dean fucked him slowly, so slowly until the angel was begging.

“Please, please, please, please—” 

The tie disappeared from his field of vision as Dean took hold of it and used it as leverage, tugging on it enough to bring Castiel up a bit, to get him to lift his torso, but not enough to hurt.

Well, enough to hurt a little

Just like Castiel liked.

He was sure there was some sort of deeper meaning to his penchant for a little bit of rough-housing and man-handling in his sex life. He was sure there was something there about him feeling like he deserved to be hurt a little for his sins, but he was too busy having a cock shoved into his tight ass to care much, or to ponder the deeper side of himself.

The hotel fantasy soon faded away and Dean stopped explaining what would have happened. It became abundantly clear to them both that this was much more their style, much better suited to their lives, and endlessly hotter.

The sounds he and Dean made in the church echoed, the whimpers and hitches of breath sounding loud and sharp in against the glass and up into the domed ceilings. The statues all watched as Dean brought down a hand and slapped the angel’s ass so hard that the clap reverberated around the church.

The depictions of angels and demons in the stainglass and oil paintings heard Dean taunt the angel.

“Oh, fuck,” the hunter rasped. “Oh, God. Oh, God—”

“Don’t say my father’s name!”

“You’re fucking _in his house, Cas_!”

The angel cried out, loud, hoarse, his face shining with sweat, his mouth open as he yelped a bit. Dean was hitting the right spot, his hips angled just right—

“L-Like you never had sex in your f-f- _fuck, fuck fuck!_ In your f-father’s house—”

“We lived in a car all ah...ah…all our lives, y-you dick!”

Another hard, loose slap left a handprint on the angel’s ass. 

“You’ve defiled several people in t-that car, Dean. Myself included—ah!”

The statues watched Dean let go of the tie and grabbed Castiel’s arms roughly, gripping him by the elbows and using them as leverage to absolutely give it to the angel. His hips snapped forward and he drilled into him, their flesh clapping together erratically.

As Castiel chased his orgasm, feeling it build, feeling the heat spread over his chest and up his neck, feeling the pressure of pleasure twisted tightly between his legs, moments from exploding, he felt free. The tip of his cock tapping at the top of a bible tucked into the pew he was bent over. Desperately, the angel keened, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, _fuck me, fuck me_ ,—”

Dean yanked them both back, his ass hitting cold wood. Castiel following, his hand snapping out to steady himself. Without missing one more beat, the angel sat back onto Dean’s cock, sliding down easily, and he rode him in church like Jesus’ likeness wasn’t watching him, or judging him like, ‘You rebelled for this?’

As Castiel came with a cry that was so loud Dean’s hand snapped up and clamped over his mouth, Castiel figured he’d rebel a hundred, a thousand more times for this.

As hot come shot out of him, streaking the bible in front of him, he felt a pang of regret. But just a little pang, because Dean was coming now too and that was all that Castiel needed. He felt hot come fill him, and he felt Dean’s slippery cock rub over his prostate. The holy book was forgotten. 

Dean, despite his man-handling and the way he’d pounded into Castiel like he was trying to teach him a lesson, came with a groan and he pulled Castiel in close, kissing his shoulder as he jerked his hips up one, two more times. 

“I love you so much,” Dean whispered as the last shudders of his orgasm coursed through him. His embrace was tight, his fingers curling into the front of Castiel’s white shirt, and his lips pressing gentle kisses into the back of his neck. 

“I would move Heaven and earth for you,” Castiel breathed back, tilting his head back, welcoming the trail of kisses Dean planted behind his ear and into his hair.

Then Dean’s orgasm faded away and frankly, so did Castiel’s. As the angel lifted himself off of his human, he winced and snapped his fingers, instantly clothing and cleaning them up. Human sex was wonderful, and breathtaking, and beautiful in its own animalistic way. But it was messy and sticky. Castiel hated being sticky.

He collapsed down beside Dean, sitting in the pew, staring up at the altar.

Dean waved his hand at the dripping white streaks of come in front of them, painting the wood and the leather cover of a Bible.

“Uh, you missed a spot.”

Castiel waved it off, peering around the church with the air of someone who was just thoroughly satisfied and couldn't be bothered with anything else.

“It’ll be fine. Those writers were all assholes anyway,” he dismissed gruffly, running his fingers through his messy hair.

When he turned to survey Dean, he was already looking at him, his freckled face flushed but beaming, a big, dopey smile spread across his features.

“I’m going to Hell,” Dean whispered, his tone dripping with laughter. 

Castiel fought his vessel, trying not to smile. Still, his lips pursed and he shrugged, leaning in to Dean, whispering against his lips, “If you go to Hell, I’ll raise you from it.”

“ _We’re_ going to Hell,” Dean corrected, sighing and getting to his feet. He extended a hand to Castiel, who took it despite having completely functional legs. 

“That may very well be true,” the angel murmured, shaking his head. He walked loftily with the love of his life, the other half of his profound bond, and he smiled, squeeze the hand that held his in between their bodies. “But since we’re going there anyway, I say we make date night a more regular occasion.”

“Like every Sunday?” Dean smirked, gesturing around to the church.

Castiel grinned. 

“Amen, Winchester.”


End file.
